


Driving to Sanity

by cardiganfucker



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Sleep Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-25
Updated: 2011-09-25
Packaged: 2017-10-24 00:45:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cardiganfucker/pseuds/cardiganfucker





	Driving to Sanity

He could steal that car from her if he wanted to. She wouldn’t put up a fight. She wasn’t that old, sixty-four if he were to guess. Though she was active she would rather loose her car then risk injury.

Sherlock watched her park; he even took a brief step in her direction. His brain then cried out logic. The only thing keeping him a float. He straightened out his course and kept walking.

He hadn’t slept in three days straight. His entire body was humming, like a machine about to overload. His heart was fluttery and felt non-existent except for the tickling he occasionally felt in his chest he was sure shouldn’t be there. He’d dry heaved in the alleyway he’d just walked out of. He could feel his fingers twitching against his will and his eyelids fluttering every so often. He hands were not quite in fists and he was aware he was trembling whenever he would look at his hands.

He’d gone out, on a case. He’d gone out just to poke around a rather tough part of London but in his state of exhaustion he hadn’t thought. He hadn’t taken note that his reflex time was that of being slower then a drunkards’. He hadn’t thought to change his shoes even though he was now in a dark hoodie with jeans in an attempt to blend. His head felt like there were caterpillars crawling on his brain and each step was a small victory that it wasn’t a stumble.

He could have stolen that car if he wanted to. He could have stolen it and driven home.

Driven to sanity.

Driven to John.

He stuck his hands in his front hoodie pocket and felt them vibrate against each other in the rhythm with the rest of his body shook. He could feel the bile threatening in the back of his throat. He swallowed. It hurt.

Where are you?

Text from John. He hadn’t felt his phone vibrate and only pulled it out of his pocket by chance. His fingers shook uncertainly over the keys.

Nowhere, be home soon. –SH

Home. Home. Home.

Had to get home. Had to get to John.

Wouldn’t be soon enough.

Should have stolen the car.

End


End file.
